Red 2: An Awakening
by reject187
Summary: Yeah, cruddy title, i know...Red is now living with the newsies, but something drastic happens. Dun dun dun! Click on the little blue title...come on...you know you want to...mas e bhur toil e?
1. A cough and a card

Don't own Newsies. Own plot. Own Red. Deal with it. : P

I did feel like I rushed the plot a bit, so if it bugs you, that's why I'm working on it.

- - - - - -

"Extra! Extra! Read all about it!" The cries of newsies rang from one end of the city to the other, begging old and young alike to buy a paper.

One newsie, standing on the corner of 7th and Broadway, became one of the many crying out to the crowds. Her auburn tresses were hidden under a newsboys cap, while she was dressed in boy's clothes. Anyone giving her a second glance might notice she was a girl, but even at sixteen she was so flat chested she looked like a boy. There was nothing outstanding about her features, a sunburned face and too many freckles, her eyes a dull shade of grey. Skinny as a beanpole and frizzy hair, but the kindest heart if you had the time to dig down a few layers. She could whip any Delancy silly, but taking on Blink or Jack took a little more than she was used to. Not like they, or anyone else for that matter, would attack her.

"Fire in da Hole! Thousands rescued!" Red yelled out the headline. She handed out several papers, collected a few cents, and kept going. If she was going to beat Jack today, she'd have to sell her remaining twenty papers by…three thirty. She glanced at the church steeple just at the bells began to ring.

DONG. DONG. DONG.

Three o'clock. Twenty papers left.

She limped to the other side of the street, coughing all the way. As she crossed, a short and stout middle-aged lady in a purple, feathered hat spotted her. The lady came over to the newsie doubled over, coughing her head off.

"Oh, you poor dear. Here, I'll buy a paper." Red gladly handed over the paper and received a quarter. Her eyes widened. "Thank you, miss!" The brightness in her eyes overjoyed the woman, who went on with a small smile on her face.

Red turned away from the crowds on the street to hack her guts out again. She hadn't been faking all day. Or the past week, for that matter. By the time the attack was over, five more people had bought papers, and her stomach ached so bad she thought she would retch. _Well, a good part to this is that I'll have rock hard abs by the time I'm done._

Since she now only had fourteen remaining, she headed towards the lodging house, telling herself not to sell the evening edition. The next five blocks yielded ten sells. _Pretty good, if I do say so myself,_ she thought proudly. Then she started coughing again. Four pennies and a nickel were produced on the next two streets, and by the time she reached the house, her hands were empty. But her pockets were jingling with change. _Maybe I'll play in the poker game tonight._

She crossed the street to the lodging house. As she stepped across the threshold into the dim interior, another coughing attack…well…attacked her. Kloppman looked up from going over the books behind the desk. "You back already, Red?"

She grinned proudly at him, but her fatigue and headache half wiped off her smile. She jingled her pockets for him and headed around the desk to get into her box. As she poured her earnings into a small sack, she caught the quarter as it fell. She studied it a minute, then pocketed it with enough change to buy papers the next day.

"Hey, Klop? I don't think I'll be sellin' the evenin' edition."

He nodded to indicate he heard her.

As she walked up the stairs towards her room, she had to stop and cough again. She sank to the floor in front of the boy's ward, her back against the wall. She hugged her stomach, closing her eyes as she did so. If only she didn't have to walk all the way… up… the… st…

Jack came out of the boy's ward moments later, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. When he spotted Red half-sitting, half-lying on the floor, sound asleep, he shook his head, picked her up, and carried her to the attic. He glanced at her before he left, and shut the door as quietly as possible, before retiring to his bunk to get back to his nap.

- - - - - - -

She slept on for a few good hours, waking only when the evening distribution bell rang. She bolted upright and threw off her covers out of instinct, vaguely wondering how she got up there. Figuring Kloppman brought her, she ignored the thought that he was too old to lift her and walked slowly down the stairs, determined to get something hot down her aching throat. As she got to the landing, she shot a glance around the large commons room. Nothing much. It was dead as a tomb. The only life showing was the fire sputtering in the small fireplace on one end. She stoked the coals, bringing flames back into their existence, then tiredly strolled into the small kitchen and fixed herself some coffee.

As she headed back up the stairs with her mug, she stopped. Turned around. Again, nothing out of the ordinary, but there was something she couldn't quite put her finger on. She proceeded to tiptoe around the room, looking suspiciously at the friendly shadows and even giving the one luxury in the establishment, an old, comfortable, velvet-lined chair near the fireplace an incredulous glance. Giving up the search-for what, she was still in the dark-and headed over to Kloppman's desk to see if he left a note to where he'd been. A small, white envelope lay on the counter. This was unusual. If Kloppman left a note, it wouldn't have been in an envelope.

It bore her name on the front. No one gave newsies letters, and this alone was suspicious. But what name, and at this she started. No one called her that.

_Torii._

That was all it said on the front. Nothing was written anywhere else. Skeptically, she slit the envelope open with the small letter-knife also lying on the counter. To her surprise, a card was inside, handmade, reading _Happy Birthday_ on the front. There were no frills or any sort, no decorative trimmings or pictures. Just the words _Happy Birthday_ in black stamped on a cream sheet of paper. She was surprised someone knew it was her birthday. Even she had almost forgotten that it was…_yesterday. I think._ She shrugged and opened it.

_To one who truly deserves one. _

No signature. No name. Not even an indication that the person knew her. Only her name on the envelope and then the message. That was all. It was in the same style as the front of the card.

Red looked in confusion at it, as much as her pounding head would allow her, then headed upstairs, obliviously leaving the entire thing behind, still sitting on the counter.

- - - - - - -

Across the street, from the shadows, in an alleyway of course, a figure watched Torii through the one window in the house, grinning when she found the card. It then trotted off in the opposite direction, running into Jack as it went.

Before Jack could even apologize, the small figure was up and running, as far as possible from the scene. Jack shrugged and moved across the street.


	2. Surprise

As Jack entered the house for the second time that day, he noticed the card on the counter. After reading it, a smile split his craggy features. There was going to be a surprise today.

- - - - - -

Red came downstairs a few hours later. After her small nap, a cup of coffee, and some alone time, she felt as good as new. Well, almost. She entered the commons room again.

The firelight eerily flickered against the cedar walls, small candles lighting up shadows where they could. It was empty. This was unusual. Then again, a lot of things were unusual today.

The commons room was never empty at this time of day. There was usually at least one game of poker or go fish going on, several young lads playing marbles, and Jack usually surveying his kingdom from the chair near the fireplace. Specs would be reading, one of Dickens' masterpieces, and any number of boys sitting in circles spinning tall tales about the day's happenings.

She looked at the clock. It read eight o' nine. _Strange._ She took the chair next the fireplace, threw her legs over one arm and leaned against the other, and picked up Specs' copy of _A Tale of Two Cities_.

She had read past the first page, the famous 'It was the best of times, it was the worst of times,' paragraph, when she noticed there were several pairs of eyes on her. She quickly sat up and looked around, but there was no one. And yet she still had the feeling of being watched. She settled back down, glancing fervently around the room, but to no avail. She had just sank back into the book, when,

"SURPRISE!"

Red actually fell off the chair, the book flying in the air, caught by Specs before it dropped into the flames. A round of laughter came from around the room. Red stood up, rubbing her eyes, trying to believe the sight before her. Every single newsie from the Manhattan Lodging House, David, Les, Sarah, and even Spot Conlon were there. Jack came and wrapped her in a hug, swinging her off her feet in a circle. She just stared at him.

"Jack? What's da meanin' of all dis?"

He grinned and pulled a slightly wrinkled card from his back pocket. She gasped. It was the one she had left on Kloppman's counter.

"You…you…" All she could do was gape.

Jack just laughed. "Hey evryone! Red here's speechless fo' once in her life!" Another round of laughter swept over the room as she smacked him alongside the head. Jack laughed with them and led her to the chair she had recently been scared out of. As she sat, dumbfounded by all the attention, Sarah came up to her. The room semi-quieted.

Red shared a grin with Sarah. "'Parently, I 'ave dis powa ova people taday."

Sarah smiled back. "Well, since we assumed today's your birthday…"

Red interrupted. "It's not." She sat back and crossed her arms, a scowl forming on her face. The crowd held its breath. She broke into a smile again. "It was yesterday."

Now it was Jack who scowled. "Since when do dese kinds o' things 'appen to ya, an' we don' know 'bout it?"

Blink answered before she could even open her mouth. "Since before we met 'er, dat's fo' sure." The room echoed again with laughter and ominous 'ooooo!'s.

Sarah rolled her eyes and the room quieted again. From behind her back she produced a package, wrapped in newspaper and twine-what else? Red worked to control her shock.

"Fo'…fo' me? Dis is fo' me?"

The boys around the room chuckled a bit. Blink spoke again. "What? 'Aven't ya eva held a birt'day present b'fore?" But his joke fell flat. From the way Red handled the package, it looked as if she'd never received a present before, much less a surprise party for her birthday.

Red blinked back tears, ashamed of the emotion she was showing in front of her friends. She finally ripped open the parcel and gasped she lifted out a beautiful burgundy dress. Her eyes shining, she clasped it to her breast and looked to her one girl friend. "Thanks Sarah. I prolly won't wear it much, but it sure is purty." Only Sarah knew that this was her first dress since…well, forever.

It was loudmouthed Blink who broke the silence again. "C'mon, Red, it's jist a dress." Red just shook her head at him and set it down beside the chair. She wasn't at all surprised when Blink came up next. He sheepishly presented her a small box. As she opened it, all pretense fell away as she lifted a small, slim volume of poetry from the wrappings. She gleefully jumped up and wrapped her arms around him, and if that wasn't enough, gave him a short peck on the cheek. Blink blushed to the roots of his hair, as the guys laughed at his beet-red face. Red laughed too. It wasn't too often she caught her best friend out, embarrassing him.

There weren't many that had money to spend, so many just got up and told a story about her, except Bumlets, who danced (he was never one very well with words), and Skittery and Blink, who sang. (I'm sorry, but they both have wonderful voices in the movie!) All in all, she received the dress and poetry book, a Dickens novel from Specs ("So you'll stop borrowing mine," he said) and a small box of candies from Jack. Quite a wealth for those days, but Red was happier that her friends cared that much about her to go to the lengths they did. And the evening went that the gifts were given first, and then those who had a story to share stood in the center of the room, encircled by the attentive faces of all there.

It came about that Spot was the one telling stories for a time, and Red was so enjoying the evening, but found she was restless. So she sat upright in her chair, and Mush being the one sitting on the floor in front of her, leaning against her chair, became her target.

Mush became quite startled when her two hands touched his shoulders, but relaxed almost immediately as she started rubbing the knots out of his back. He almost laughed to himself that it was her own birthday party, and here she was, being so like herself that she was giving out backrubs. He smiled and clapped with everyone else as Spot pulled him up to give the next speech. Spot took his place in front of Red, and she started rubbing again; Spot basically giving the same reaction as Mush had, as he hadn't even noticed what she had been doing.

Mush began looking toward Red with a slight twinkle in his eye, and began speaking. He shared about her generosity and servitude, even when it wasn't beneficial for her. She proceeded to slowly stop the movement of her hands, pulling them back into her lap, leaning back with such a embarrassed scowl that Mush blatantly ignored. He finished, everyone clapped, and on it went.

The evening was full of laughter and teasing, joyous until Kloppman forced them into bed. Complaints and meaningless threats were directed, but everyone headed up the stairs. The Jacobs' headed out the front door, going home.

Jack and Red were left alone in the now vacant area, as Kloppman locked up and headed to his own room. Jack crouched in front of her sleepy face, resting on the arm of the chair, her legs once again swung over the other arm.

"Did we surprise you?"

Red smiled. "Yes indeedy. I swear, I was 'bout ta have a heart attack."

Jack instantly had a teasing look about him. "Well ya betta not die anytime soon." He grinned. "I dunno what we'd do witout ya." Red looked about to speak, but he cut in before she could take a breath. "I mean, who would we tease at night?"

Red sat up indignantly. "Ya know, I was 'bout ta tell you dat you was one o' da sweetest people in New Yawk, but I guess I was wrong." She shared a small smile with him, though. They both teased each other so much it was like breathing. She had the same relationship with most of the guys in the House.

She'd been there about six months now, and had grown more fond of them everyday. She was also probably one of the most giving individuals Jack, or any of the boys for that matter, had ever seen. She knew how to listen without talking, and how to give advice without preaching. She always put others before herself. Like the backrubs today, and helping out Crutchy when his leg was acting up, mothering most of the guys when they were sick or hurt, buying lunch for one of the younger boys, and generally being altogether helpful and generous. (I do realize this is a bit Mary-Sueish, but I want a reason for the guys to help her, other than the usual "She's gorgeous! She's a fighter! She can deck me and get away with it cuz I think I want to lay her!" crap.)

As Jack looked back on it, she never complained, unless in jest. She was tough when she had to be, like protecting herself or protecting her friends, but she was mostly mild-mannered. He also realized that her personality plusses were also her downfalls. She never talked about herself. They never knew anything about her unless it slipped out or she volunteered the information herself. They had never seen her very emotional because she hid her feelings so well. The only time they'd seen her vulnerable was when she had been hurt, before they were friends. Giving so much of herself was sometimes physically straining on her. And most of the time, the guys forgot to thank her for it. Jack hoped that tonight made up for most of it.

Red was almost trying to read his mind. "Thanks fo' settin' that up fo' me tanight. That was such fun, and I really think evryone enjoyed it." Jack grinned again. She reminded him of a verse from the Bible he heard once from a sidewalk preacher. Something along the lines of "…shouldn't look only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others." (If you don't know, that's Philippians 2:4)

"I'm glad ya liked it, since it was fo' ya." There was a pause. Jack sighed, then yawned. "Well, we betta get ta bed. I'll walk ya partway up."

Red nodded. "Thanks." But halfway across the room, she stopped and started coughing again. Jack looked to her, concern etched into his face, but she just held up a hand and turned away. Huge, wrenching explosions from her lungs wracked her body into short, painful convulsions. After what seemed like forever, but was actually only a few minutes, the hacking stopped. She sank down with a shuddering, careful breath, being careful not to trigger it again. She continued to rock back and forth until she brought herself under control again, then slowly straightened, a determined look coming into her face as she stood.

Jack was stunned. He'd never seen her like this. She'd always been so competent, never succumbing to anything, so indomitable.And she hadn't said a word about this. Even in the group settings she hid it fairly well. He slowly walked over to her, angrily grabbing her forearms.

"How long has this been goin' on?"

She shrugged. "I dunno. Few weeks er so."

He tightened his grip. "Why haven't ya tole anyone?"

She threw his hands off. "Cuz it ain't important! It's jist a stupid cough!"

He stepped back. Maybe he should just humor her on this one. "Ok. Sorry. I must be a bit too tired right now ta think." And in truth, his mind was a bit fuzzy, and he had an overborne sense of protectiveness at night. Red just nodded.

"I'm tired too. Let's just get to bed."

They walked up the stairs slowly. At the door to the boy's ward, they parted, and Red continued on up the other flight of stairs and entered the attic. She crawled underneath the covers, grateful Sarah hadn't stayed over tonight.

Her eyes closed shut long before her mind stopped spinning over her problems.

- - - - - -

Jack had debated whether or not to tell her of his decision. In the end he was glad he didn't tell her she was staying in the house tomorrow, cough or no. Otherwise they might have been fighting until morning's break.

Comforted by his decision, he turned over and pulled his sheets over his body. He'd need a good nights sleep for the fury he'd face tomorrow. As it turned out, he faced it much sooner than expected.

- - - - - -

I understand there is some confusion about that last line on the summary. Mas e bhur toil e means please. In another language. Which you will encounter in the proceeding chappys. Thanks to mdm and ougirl for reviews. Go rimh maith agat!

Saol fada chugat.


	3. The Fury

Jack awoke with a cough. A loud voice shouted from downstairs.

"Get up, ya bums! Get outta there, now!" He distinctly heard Kloppman's voice, but other voices were screaming as well. He opened his eyes.

Smoke was filling the room. Jack immediately got off his bunk and started waking everyone up. This he did with incredible speed and accuracy, and soon everyone was up and out of the room, going down the fire escape.

As Jack, the last one out, leaped from the last step, Kloppman was counting heads.

"Snipes…Itey…Blink…where's Pie Eater? Oh, there you are…that's everyone…wait. Where's Red?"

As an answer, Jack got back on the fire escape. He evaded several pairs of hindering hands and scrambled back into the room. Entering the building took his breath away, literally. Smoke had already filled the ward in the few minutes he'd been out. He dipped his head out for a breath of fresh air, then ducked back in. His eyes streaming, he coughed his way up the stairs to Red's room.

He kicked open the door to find Red still sleeping peacefully. Too peacefully. Hoping she wasn't dead from smoke inhalation, he heaved her over his shoulder and frantically sprinted back down the stairs, through the boy's dorm, and out the window.

When he appeared with Red over his shoulder, no cheers were heard. Only, "Jist get her down here an' help us!"

After lying her on the ground and making sure she was still breathing, he sprinted over to the guys with wet gunnysacks trying to smother the flames licking at the Lodging house.

Red woke up slightly, and all she saw were figures running towards tongues of flame before she drifted off again, still trying to breathe.

- - - - - -

A few hours later, Jack came back to check on Red again. She'd moved, so he knew she was ok. They had finally defeated the fire. It thankfully hadn't moved to any other house, a miracle in itself. They had unanimously decided to take today off. The first streams of light from the new day flooded into the city as he kneeled down beside her and shook her awake.

"Red. Red?"

- - - - - - -

Her eyes fluttered open. All she could see was a young man's soot-streaked face.

At this, her eyes shot open. As quickly as she could, she backed up on her hands and feet. Terror overtook her as her back reached a wall. Her brain started panicking. But all this was broken through by a familiar voice.

"Red! It's jist me. It's jist Jack. C'mon, Red. It'll be ok."

Her eyes were truly opened then, and she saw her friends covered in ash and soot, their solemn faces looking as dark as Boot's. She took a shuddering breath, trying not to cough, trying to remember who she was, where she was, that she wasn't back there any longer.

"Wh…where did the fire start?"

Jack just shook his head. He couldn't speak. So Blink piped up instead.

"Well, da fire weren't covad last night, and it kinda got outta control."

Red covered her face with her hands. "Dis is all my fault."

Blink sat down beside her, gently wrapping an arm around her. "No, it ain't. It's all our faults. We's jist glad you're safe."

No one really had the heart to say anything after that. The house was livable in, the only part that got severely scorched being the large downstairs area. Kloppman's counter was slightly singed, but still usable. But everything near the fire, the chair, Spec's books were all lost to the fire. That side of the room looked hollowed out, blackened and charred.

For some unknown reason, when Red saw it, she became dazed. She picked her way through everything, randomly talking in Latin or Gaelic to herself.

Looking down at Spec's books, or the singed chair, she would pick something up and crumble it through her fingers.

"Mea culpa. Mea culpa." They didn't see the single tear slide down her cheek.

After watching her a few minutes, the guys--very disturbed--all went to their bunks to see if anything was severely damaged by the smoke.

But Red just sat in the middle of the room. All of a sudden she laughed. A cold, harsh laugh, that came from the depths of the darkest soul. As she stood, she swore at the charred wood.

"Titin gan éirí ort."

She turned and walked up the stairs, stopping halfway for her usual cough attack. It wasn't so bad this time, so as she continued up the stairs, no one suspected a thing.

She gained her room, and looked around, making plans. Everything in the house would have to be cleaned. Everything scrubbed, washed, and aired out. She remembered. And demons from the past never lie.

- - - - - - -

Thanks to those who are still reading the Red stuff. Oh yeah, if you just started reading, you might wanna read the prequel to this one (as you can see this is Red II), which is called Red. (no duh). There might be another after this. Maybe. Thank you to the one person who reviewed, lufs ya! And i will incorporate more verses into this. I didn't know if that was ok with the site and if would insult anyone.


	4. Retreat

The days passed, the Incident (as it was now referred to) became obsolete in the house, affecting no one. Except Red. Every day she spoke less and less, until the day she didn't speak unless someone spoke to her. Then came the day, about a week afterwards, that she didn't speak at all, except to yell out headlines.

Jack had called out to her. "Hey, Red! Ya wanna come with me ta Charlie's?" Charlie was known for his famous, tasty, cheap hotdogs on 7th.

She barely acknowledged his presence, only slightly shook her head, then yelled out the headline once again. Jack noticed she hadn't taken the usual seventy papes today. Only fifty. He scratched his head, determined to think on this after he had a bite to eat, and turned away.

Through the week, she continued to be reclusive, not even coming downstairs at eight like usual. A few of the guys started teasing her for freaking out over the fire, but she just threw them a death glance and went on her way. They suspected something was up, but it didn't really show itself until later.

- - - - - -

A couple weeks from the Incident, Spot came by.

"Hey, Red! What's eatin' ya?"

All he got was a sharp glance as she passed by, heading towards her room. Spot scratched his head. Normally, her reply would have been, "Maggots, dunderhead." He looked to the other newsies. Mush spoke for all of them.

"She's been that way since the fi…" before he could say anything, he was nonchalantly elbowed. He winced, coughed, and started over. "I mean the Incident."

Spot just stared at the steps Red had just vacated. His voice came out haltingly, as if he was unsure of what to say. "A little fire brought her down like that. How is that possible." His last sentence came out as a statement, the question unnecessary.

Inadvertently, he had voiced the thoughts of the newsies as a whole. How indeed, and what to do about it was the question, but no one knew quite how to go about it, since none of them knew anything about it.

Sarah knew much, but they didn't think to ask her; after all, she's only a girl. But that was their problem. They were treating Red as if she were a guy. And it was plausible, since she'd been living with them for half a year.

"Guys, I really think suptin's wrong heah."

A cacophony of sarcastic "No!" and "Really, ya think?" echoed from the huddle the newsies had unconsciously formed.

"Hey, cut it. So here's what I tink we oughta do." Here Jack leaned in, proceeding to whisper as various head bobbing and shoulder shrugging went in a wave around the group. They each headed out, a small grin on their face. Red was in danger of being killed with normalcy.

- - - - - -

_The flames flicked at her skin. She drew back in panic, running out of the house just as it collapsed._

_Her mother and sister were still in there_

_She screamed, trying to get help, trying to reach someone. _

_But no one heard her._

_Suddenly, a man ran towards the fire licking at the house. Several others joined him. Soon, the fire was out. But her family-she knew she wouldn't find them. Their cries still rang in her ears. _

_An arm crossed her shoulders. She looked up into the soot-streaked face of her father. He was grimly staring at the sight._

_He sighed. "Guess we gotta move on, Torii." He looked at her for the first time. Noticing the tears running down her cheeks, he spoke. "It wasn't your fault, Torii. There was nothin' you could do."_

_The tears just came down harder. Suddenly her face was crushed against his flannel shirt. The fabric soaked up the tears as father and daughter rocked back and forth in front of the destruction that used to be their home._

_No matter what anyone said, it was her fault. And her mind repeated it. Mea culpa. Mea culpa. You could have done something. Mea culpa. It is your fault. Mea culpa. Mea culpa. You did it to yourself._

_- - - - - - - -_

_Later that day_

"Please, Red?" Blink was down on his knees now, his hands outstretched. Red looked at him, lethargic in her response. Secretly her mind was chuckling at seeing Blink begging for her to come downstairs. She was ready to refuse, but then made the mistake of looking into his eye.

She sighed and threw up her hands in defeat. "Fine. I'll go." A grin flashed across his face and he grabbed her hand. As he began dragging her down, though, she cautioned, "Don't expect too much."

Blink didn't answer. Just getting her downstairs was the key.

As they entered the large room, Red stopped. The charred area of the house had been scrubbed, repaired, and now shined with the new wood. She had even helped. All the same, she couldn't shake that strange feeling—one that she could count on one hand the times she'd felt it.

Fear.

Blink felt her trembling. He gave her a side hug, wishing he could take away her disquietude, of what he didn't know. "You don't hafta go, if you don't wanna, ya know."

Red looked at him. The situation she was in suddenly hit her like a knife. She put up a front so quickly he blinked.

"Shall we go in?" She smiled a sweet smile, so real that Blink was almost fooled. But he couldn't get his stupid intuition to shut up that something was wrong.

Instead, he took her hand and led her in.

There was a new chair—or rather, another one found off the street, still usable and not too disgusting. Specs was reading his copy of Dickens' _Hard Times_. Everyone was back to normal. Everything was back to normal. _But why doesn't it feel normal?_ She mentally shrugged and moved into the room.

She was greeted like any other day, making her a little bit more comfortable. When Blink led her over to the circle of talkers, though, she stiffened. He again put a comforting arm around her shoulders, trying to get her to relax. Finally, she sat down with the others, not adding much, if anything to the conversation, but Blink could see she was trying. She even started to give Crutchy a backrub, even though it was out of nerves. No one mentioned anything about her recent reclusiveness.

Until Jack spoke. "Good ta have ya back, Red."

At this she shot up out of her seat and stared him in the face. A cold, harsh laughed filled the room with dread. Her eyes were now boring into his, making chills shimmy up his spine. Her eyes looked dead. "You never had me normal, Kelly."

Instead of going up to her room, she headed out the front door. A draft of cold air wafted into the room

The door slammed behind her, a death knell to the ears of the newsies. Dread silence took precedence over the usual chatter. Jack sat as still as stone, hands on the arms of the chair, gripping them until his knuckles turned white.

- - - - -

oh yeah, look for translations at Majstro Translation Dictionary. Its a really hard language to find.


	5. Regrets

Red hugged her arms about herself as she plodded down the sidewalk. No one was out in the biting fall frigidness. She regretted leaving without a coat. She regretted shooting her mouth off at Jack.

She regretted living.

She took a breath in, concentrating on what she smelled. The crisp autumn air. Some smog. The greasiness of the local hotdog vendor. A hint of smoke. She coughed a little, losing breath, but still enjoying being outside a little bit.

She turned the block to a punishing light. There, a few houses down, was an apartment building.

Flames belched from a second story window.

A child was screaming.

Without giving herself time to think, she ran down the block, slipping as she hit a puddle, righting herself, and hurrying on.

Flames erupted from the roof like a volcano.

Red paused at the doorway, her mind hanging in indecision. Fear gripped her person in a chokehold. Another fire flashed before her eyes. She couldn't let that happen again. Her heart urged her to do something, but her mind kept her back.

The child screamed again.

Without thought she plunged into the building, flinging doors open for any unsuspecting people who might be trying to get them open. She continued towards the screams.

Nearing the sound, she spotted through an open door a bassinet. Quickly entering the room, she found a small baby in it, its face scrunched up in fear.

Red hurriedly picked it up, cradling it in her arms as she ran to the next door. She rammed into the weak, locked door, and a few feet away was the child. She quickly motioned to the child to come with her.

He sat, planted to his spot, terrified. He would not come.

Finally, she shouted, "I'll be right back!" and ran towards the entrance. A small crowd had gathered. Coughing, she pushed the baby into a woman's arms. She darted back into the building before anyone realized her intentions.

Passing burning rooms and precarious beams above her, she finally reached the child. He held up his arms. She picked him up, and he clung to her neck as she got out of that room as quickly as possible.

She sprinted towards the front door, the seconds seeming like minutes.

There were no more screams.

Just as she flew out the front door, a flaming beam fell, blocking the entrance. She looked back at it, regretting she wasn't quick enough to help anyone else trapped in there, and wonder what in the world she was going to do with this child.

Before she could think another thought, the child took one decision out of her hands.

His arms were still tightly wrapped around her neck. By now, his small, short legs had wound themselves around her waist. He had seen the beam fall.

The child began to cry. She tried to comfort him, hugging him as tightly as she could. He sobbed into her shirt, soaking her shoulder.

Several in the crowd offered to take him, even the woman she had given the baby, which turned out to be her own. But Red refused.

"Where's his folks?"

No one knew, although the young woman said that they were probably still in the apartment. It was then that she decided to keep him.

I may not be able to give him the best of lives, but hey, if I can't support the tyke, I can always go for adoption.

Red turned around to watch the building. It slowly collapsed upon itself, smashing its own fire out. She shivered. It was too reminiscent. At least this time she'd done something.

The crowd slowly dissipated, some staying behind to help the firemen crush the remaining embers of the house.

Red was one of the last to go. She had stood, transfixed by the dying flames for so long, the child began to doze off. When his head hit her shoulder in slumber, she finally headed towards the House, trying not to fall asleep herself. The moon shone to light their path, a silent sentinel over the lost that night.

She walked through the door, silently shutting the door behind her. The fire in the grate was dying out, and most of the lanterns were out. She tried to silently cough, and managed to do so without waking the child.

One lantern was still lit, and by its light, Red could see the chair facing the fire. She took a few steps towards it, trying to get warm. A low, eerie voice seemed to resonate throughout the room. She shivered, trying to remember whose voice it was.

A tall, dark figure got up from the chair. As it walked toward Red, she cowered back. She couldn't see anything of its face or features. A knife glinted in its left hand.

The thought of being killed by an unseen criminal could frighten anyone.

- - - - -

Oooh! Cliffhanger. Deal with it. Anyone figure out what language i'm using yet? you will in my next chappy...evil laughter


	6. The Story

Yay! There are intelligent reviewers out there!

- - - - -

"Red."

The voice again. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the voice by willpower alone. "No. Nìhagh. No!" she fervently whispered to herself. A hand landed on her shoulder, sending chills through her body. She semiconsciously gripped the child tighter, who whimpered in response. The voice spoke again.

"Red. Listen. It's just me."

She opened her eyes, and for the second time, she saw Jack's face against dying embers. As she relaxed slightly, Jack motioned to the child in her arms. "Who is that?"

She loosened her grip. "It's…well…I guess it's one o' dem long stories. We gotta get 'im to bed first, though."

Jack glanced at the drooping eyelids of the small tyke and agreed.

After they had put him down on Red's bunk, with much (ahem) discussion, they had situated themselves around the small table in the tiny kitchen with cups of coffee. Jack spoke first.

"I guess dere's a lotta stuff I could ask ya 'bout, such as what da heck is up wit yer attitude lately and why ya stormed outta here, but dey's kinda connected, so I guess da foist question would be, who's da kid?"

He rushed it all out in one breath, as if he'd been building up to that point. He sighed a bit, took a sip of his drink, and waited.

Red smiled a bit. This question would be the easiest, and of that she was grateful.

"Well, ta make a long story short, I kinda rescued 'im."

Jack rolled his eyes. This would take forever if she intended on being so evasive.

"From what?"

"Uhh…" she seemed a bit uncomfortable to Jack. She obviously didn't want to spill. He was sort of glad. It was good to make her squirm once in a while. "I…uh…a burnin' apartment buildin'."

Jack barely was able to keep his jaw in one place. He coughed and managed to continue.

"I don't know and I really don't wanna know. I won't question dat line any further. Then, uh, what's his name?"

She shrugged. "I dunno. It's not like I knew 'im beforehand."

He shook his head. "Guess we'll find out in da mornin'. Anywho, sumtin' goin' on with dat little red head of yers dat ya haven't tole me bout? Like, oh say, fo' instance, why ya been so reclusive lately?" He had cut straight to the point. Red winced. It felt as if a dart had been shot straight into her heart. When she spoke, it was dotted with hesitation, and since I don't feel like putting all the pauses, I'll just give you the gist of what she said.

"Well, ya see, um. Well, my family died in da fire, ya knew dat, right?" Jack nodded. "Well, um. Gol, dis is hard. Uh, ya see," she hunched over her cup a little more, "I sorta…well…started it."

- - - - -

"_Deagh madainn, màthair." Torii trotted from one side of the room to the other, pushing aside a sheet that served as a division between the sleeping half and the living half. The small shack was made of wood, little comfort against the rough sea winds, but this was home. It was the best they could do on her father and her sister's meager salaries at the railyards and silk factories, respectively._

_Her mother looked up from the small, rusting, cast-iron stove. "Deagh madainn, mighean. But to talk en English." She smiled to lessen the harshness of her broken English, but it was still true. Her husband wanted her children to learn so they could get better jobs than his. "We learn to fit en heah, a ghrà mo chroí," he had said. _

_Torii quickly changed her linguistics, still with an Irish brogue. "But why, Màthair? Already I know so much. E gòrach."_

_Her mother glanced sharply at her youngest daughter. "No Gaelic. Must obey your Athair."_

_Young Torii got a familiar gleam in her eyes. Her mother saw this and tried to stop her. "Nìhagh, mo nighean," inadvertently reverting to Gaelic. But it was too late._

"_What, mudda? Ya wanna buy a pape? Ya wanna me ta talk like dis all da time?"_

_Her mother started laughing. When her daughter imitated the native New Jersey street vendors, she couldn't help it. By now she had hopped up onto a table, her short arms flailing about as if trying to catch someone's attention._

"_Fwesh fwish! Get ya fwesh fwish hea'!" That was Hank, the fish seller with a lisp._

_She jumped off and hurriedly ran to the backside of the table. She stood with her hands behind her back, dipping her upper body in salute at imaginary people. "Hot Dogs! Hot Corn! Hot Chestnuts! Get it while dey's hot!" Now she became almost all the food vendors in the city. _

_Her sister came out from behind the sheet partition, rubbing her eyes. "Ciod rach air?"_

_Her mother shook her head, still trying to stifle giggles. "English, Sìle. Torii es just being funny."_

_Sìle rolled her eyes. "Mimicking da street vendors again, Torii?" Sìle had already learned more than her sister in English and had become the one everyone turned to for translations. Most of the time she and Torii got along, but in the morning, that was a different matter. _

_Torii's excitement deflated. She walked over to her mother. "Màthair, mi cuidich?"_

"_English, Torii. And yes, you help. Watch pancakes." With her short instructions, she turned back to whatever she was preparing for lunch._

_Torii excitedly seated herself on a short stool, just tall enough so she could see when the pancakes were ready to be turned. Pancakes were a special treat in the house, and being the one to turn them was a special honor. They roasted deliciously on a hot frying pan on the stove._

"_Athair leaved already?" she asked her mother._

"_Left, Torii," her sister commented from her spot at the table, reading a book._

_Her mother clicked at Síle, then addressed Torii's question. "Chagh. He got some. Watch pancakes."_

_Torii resumed staring at the small pools of pancake batter until they started to crisp at the sides. Then, with a satisfying plop, she'd flip them over to see a rich golden brown on the top._

_But today, something went wrong. Whether some batter dropped into the stove or Torii had turned her eyes off the pan to taunt her sister, something went wrong. _

_The next thing she knew, a small towel had started on fire. Torii stared at it, scared stiff. She couldn't speak. Her mother looked over soon, and seeing the towel, grabbed it, stuffing it into a small pail of water near the stove. She turned to Torii._

"_See, now you know. Dat es what you do."_

_But Torii wasn't listening. Quickly, a flame was licking up the sides of the small wooden shack. The towel hadn't been extinguished completely._

"…_you listen, Torii?" _

_Torii just pointed. Her mother turned. "Nìhagh! Sìle, cuidich gabh! Torii, outside!"_

_Everyone rushed quickly to obey. Sìle quickly went to help her mother put out the flames, while Torii was sent to safety. She didn't know what to do._

_She watched as the fire blazed out of control. She couldn't move from her spot, so frozen in fear was she. But she could scream._

"_Cuidich! Cuidich! Help! Help! Fire!"_

_Workers from the nearby railyards came at the sound of her voice. But they were too late. As they arrived, the walls collapsed into themselves, trapping her family inside. _

_There was nothing the workers could do except stomp out the embers to make sure it wouldn't spread._

_But Torii could still hear them screaming. And her father reiterated their cries._

"_Nìhagh. Nìhagh. No. Màiri!" He dropped to his knees in anguish, not even noticing Torii until a few minutes later._

- - - - -

Red took a sip from her coffee cup, then sighed. "I guess dat bout 'splains it."

Jack sat back in his chair, speechless. "Wow."

"Yeah."

"Wow."

"Dat all ya kin say, dunderhead?"

"You do realize dat wasn't yer fault? It coulda happened ta anyone."

She shrugged. "I dunno. It jist seems like it all lies on me."

"It was a while ago. Yer dad's gone now. No one can really blame ya. 'Cept yerself. And dat's usually yer biggest barrier."

Jack grinned a bit, trying to lighten the mood. He slapped the table with his hands, while pushing himself out of his chair. "C'mon, let's go ta bed. It's late." As they walked up the stairs, he asked, "Ya gonna be ok now?"

She shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe. I'll try." She smiled a weak smile, obviously forced, only lifting half her mouth. Jack quickly squeezed her in a half-hug.

"You do that. G'night."

She whispered to the closing door. "Oíche mhaith."

Red slowly plodded up the stairs, her own door closing behind her.


	7. Tyke

The next day, Red was up before anyone else. She tiptoed over to her bed, to check on her little charge. He was just beginning to stir.

She watched as he stretched and yawned, then bolted straight up in bed. He frantically looked around the room, his eyes finally relaxing a little when they fell on her. He whispered to her.

"Sgìath liughaìr?"

Her eyes opened wide. He spoke Gaelic! She quickly answered him back.

"Nìhagh. Thú bruidhim Berula?"

He nodded in reply.

"Good. Do you trust me?"

He hesitantly nodded again. A smile broke across her face.

"What's your name, tyke?"

"Nìhagh, not Tyke. Is Miles Leland da tird."

She smiled. He couldn't say his h's yet. "That's a purty long name for ya. Whaddya màthair call ya?"

He smiled this time. "Tyke."

"Mind if I call you that?"

He shrugged his shoulders in indifference. She grinned. This kid was going to be a character. But suddenly his demeanor changed. His face looked up at her, sad and expectant.

"Where es màthair? Where es athair?"

She didn't have to say a word. He burst into tears as she cradled him. Soon he stopped, and looked up into her face apprehensively, as if he was afraid she'd disappear too. She tried to be comforting and distracting in her next words.

"Well, den, I'm Torii. But me friends call me Red." She stuck out her hand, trying to make him feel welcome. He very formally shook it, standing as he did so. "How old are you?"

He held up five fingers. He scrubbed a grimy hand across his eyes.

"You wanna come down and meet de guys?"

He shrugged again.

"Well, we gotta getcha some clothes anyway, so why don't we go." She held out her hand and he took it, gripping to it as if it were a life preserver in the middle of the ocean. She looked down at him. Concern and seriousness was etched deeply into his face.

"Hey, Tyke, dey won't make ya bite da head off a chicken 'til dey know ya a week. And dat's if dey don't like ya."

He was still very concentrated. "Will dey like me?"

She smiled reassuringly. "Hey, I like ya already. Dem guys are suckers fo' kids. Don't worry bout it! 'Sides," at this, she leaned in, like she was going to tell him a secret, "I'll soak any o' da bums who tries ta hoit ya."

A smile broke across his face, and he allowed himself to be led down the stairs.

- - - - - - -

"Ya sure ya kin afford dis, Jack?"

He dragged her into Tibby's, Tyke by her side. "Hey, I ain't payin'. 'Sides, ya deserve it. Dat kid, and ya sold lots more taday den yestaday."

She shrugged. "I dunno, but I think it's like ya say, Jack—a kid gets mo' attention."

He pushed her into a booth, letting Tyke scoot in beside her. The diner was almost empty, since it was around three. Red was starving.

"Hey, can't we jist go off fo' Charlie's?"

Jack ignored her pleading look. "No. Ya eatin' in taday." The bell over the door rang. He grinned. "'Sides, heah's our payoff." He slid out of his seat, heading towards whomever just came in the door. She could hear murmuring voices, then the owner of the strange voice came into sight.

"Red, I'd like ya ta meet Denton. Denton, dis is Red, da one I tole ya 'bout."

Denton slid into the booth, Jack following him. He leaned towards her. "Jack says you have a story for me. Human interest, of course."

Her eyes opened wide. "Jack! Thù gòrach!" Her glare at him clearly told him that he would have a lot of explaining to do later. With her fists.

She turned to the Sun reporter. "Nìhagh, no, I don't. Jack here is getting delusional." She rose from her seat, but Jack was there at the end, his glance daring her to move another inch. She plopped back down reluctantly. Denton continued, motioning at Tyke as he did so.

"This story, you rescued this little boy from a burning apartment building?"

She blushed. "Yeah. I spose I did."

Tyke spoke up then. "And de McConnell's baby."

Denton and Jack's eyebrows rose simultaneously. Red sank back in her seat. This was embarrassing. Denton leaned toward her, trying to keep his interest concealed but failing miserably.

"So, tell me. How exactly did you pull this off?"

- - - - - - -

"Jack," Red started, but he cut her off.

"Good food, huh?" He strode out into the sunlight, whistling. Red jogged to catch up with him, Tyke trailing.

"More than good, but 'ow could you do that?" She stared at him in utter stupefaction.

"Well, ya know, I jist went to Denton's apartment an' told 'im I had a story fo' 'im."

She sighed in exasperation. "But WHY, JACK."

Her raised tone of voice was very unnerving. But he just shrugged and whistled again, an irritating smile on his face. Red gave him a look.

"Why, you…"

"I'll drop you off, cuz me 'n Tyke heah, we're gonna 'ave a talk." Red looked up. They were already in front of the boarding house.

Tyke looked at him, excited. "Really?" He had already grown to admire the Manhattan leader, since Les, Red and Tyke had sold with him that day. Through the day he had become more open, and although it seemed like a quick turnaround, they knew there would be problems ahead. But he seemed like he was fitting into his new lifestyle. That was a good sign to Red.

"Yup, kid. And no goils allowed." Tyke's eyes widened. He looked apologetically to Red. "Dat ok, Liubhaìr?"

She nodded, adding, "You can call me Red."

"Can I call you Liubhaìr? Cuz you are."

She smiled at him. "Only if you want to."

He nodded. "Yeah. I wanna." He waved, then turned to Jack and placed his small hand in his. She watched them walk off, knowing Jack was sharing his not-so-secret tricks of the trade.

Red walked inside. The place was vacant. She knew most of the guys were probably either still selling or up in the bunkroom sleeping or playing cards, but she didn't feel like joining them. Instead, she walked over to the new chair. She sank into it. It still smelled a bit, but it was better than the last one. This one was more of a recliner.

She took her customary position, with legs swung over one arm, while she picked up Spec's copy of _Hard Times._ It was the same book he had given her. His had gone up in flames, but he didn't know that.

She had read towards the end of the second chapter when a cough attacked her.

This one literally took her breath away. The book became forgotten, its pages splayed on the floor where it was dropped. Her legs dropped from the arm to the floor. She keeled over, bracing herself against the wood flooring, trying to get a grip on herself.

Finally the coughing stopped. She took a careful breath, wiping her mouth.

She started when she looked at her hand. Blood was streaked across the pale skin.

- - - - - - -

Sorry I haven't been updating regularly, but i might be grounded, and we just went on vacation. So sorry. Thanks to all those who reviewed! Luv ya'll!


	8. Blood Red

Red watched in horror as the red liquid as it pervaded the lines on the back of her hand. She quickly wiped it off on her dark pants, grateful that the blood wouldn't show on the rough brown fabric. She sneaked past the guys' dorm as quietly as possible, flinching when a board creaked, finally gaining the washroom. No one was in there. She locked the door and ran to a mirror.

Her face looked as white as a ghost. Blood smeared across her cheek made it look even paler.

She quickly scrubbed at it, relieved when it finally disappeared. She sighed, then made her way to the boys' room. Maybe some poker would take her mind off things.

- - - - - - -

The ridged tin groaned a bit as footsteps tried to cross it. They finally stopped by the edge of the roof, as the owner sat down, dangling their feet over the ledge. The cool night air swept over already chilled bones.

Red had sneaked up onto the roof one last time before it got too cold. She knew it wouldn't help her health-wise at all, but everything resonated so well up there. She took a deep breath. The sweet sounds of melody echoed in the still night air. She closed her eyes ant listened to the music flowing like a river over her parched tongue. The sounds always calmed her.

_An Cétean i anns feasgar solus deàrrs rach air sibh_

Red's breath showed in the crisp fall air as she sat on the rooftops. She looked up. Strangely enough, only the North star was prominent in the evening sky.

_An Cétean i ciamar ordhche tuit dbhur cridhe ciamar_

She coughed, glad no one was around to hear it. Her heart ached from the hacking and the hurt.

_Thu coisich fhéin rathhad_

"Oh, how true it is," she whispered to herself. "Lonely beyond your imagination."

_Oh! Ciamar air falbh thu an seo dhachaidh_

She thought of her family, now gone. All dead. Some because of hate, others because of accidents that could have been prevented.

_Ordhche thig_

A temporary depression stole over her as she thought of it.

_Creid agus sibh faigh dbhur slighe_

She read the old, worn Bible of her mother's every day. But even so, she felt as lost as the lamb in Jesus' parable.

_Ordhche tuit_

She suddenly had a steel in her spine. She wouldn't give in. Not today.

_Cum anail rianns sibh an dràsda_

She still had things to live for. She had Tyke. He couldn't lose anyone else now.

_An Cétean i dubh gairm cuileag air falbh_

She thought of what Jack had told her. "Yer biggest barrier is yerself."

_An Céteam i sibh turus air chon solus an latha_

As she sat, she cleansed her soul. The age-old cobwebs were swept away along with shame and sorrow. She couldn't exactly blame herself for anything that had happened to her family. She saw that now.

_An oidhche tugainn sibh an Cétean érich chon faigh grian_

There would always be a light at the end of the tunnel. There is always something to live for.

_Oidhche thig_

Even when life seems at it lowest, you can still overcome.

_Creid agus sibh faigh dbhur slighe_

She thought of something her mother always used to say. _"Meallan muilte Dé go mall ach meallan siad go mion."_ God's mill may grind slowly, but it grinds finely.

_Oidche tuit_

Darkness would never prevail. Faith would overcome it. Like Jesus said, "I tell you the truth, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there,' and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you." (Matthew 17:20)

_Cum anail rianns sibh an dràsta_

She had a duty.

_Cum anail rianns sibh an dràsta_

She had a promise.

And she couldn't keep them if she left.

She rose from her precarious spot on the ledge. She finally decided.

She was needed here. At least for a little while longer.

As she crawled under warm covers, she fell asleep with a lighter heart she'd had in weeks. She'd finally forgiven herself. There would be problems ahead, still other obstacles to overcome. But one thing was for certain.

She was home.

- - - - - -

So, that's a Gaelic translation of "May It Be" by Enya. Sorry about the belated updatedness, I'll try to be better. Thanks for my faithful readers and reviewers!


	9. Angels

A few weeks later, an expected knock woke her out of her slumber.

"C'mon, Red, get up, get up! Sell the papes, sell the papes!"

Red groaned and rolled out of bed. "Alright, alrighty Klop. I gots my feet on da floor."

Footsteps clomped down the stairs. Red stood up, swaying a bit, trying to stave off the stupor of sleep. She pulled herself up to eye level with the top bunk. The guys had dragged it in there when they knew she would be staying up there for good.

She poked the little body, curled into a little ball. "C'mon, Tyke. Up! Up! Up!"

He groaned and rolled over. "Do I hafta?"

"Chagh. Yes, come on now! Do ya wanna me ta take ya papes?"

He shot out of bed like a bullet from a Colt Peacemaker .45. Red watched in amusement as he scrambled down the stairs. He'd learned a lot from Jack already. She closed the door behind him, deciding to take a shower that night. She quickly went over to her box, and grabbing a dirty, bloodied cloth, coughed into it.

- - - - - -

At the distribution center, Tyke stood behind her in line. When it was her turn, she slapped down forty cents.

"Eighty for Red!" Weasel yelled to his nephews. Oscar pressed his face to the bars.

"Lookin' ugly taday, Red." Morris snickered. Red laughed.

"Wow, Oscar, you look like you ran into a parked carriage on da bridge. Yer face looks all squished in, like a little pug dog."

She snickered at the fallen looks on the Delancy's faces. Jack full out laughed. It was good to have her back.

- - - - - -

"Extry! Extry! Child saves hundreds from burning building!"

Red smiled. This was her headline. Somehow, she'd landed on the front page for a so-called human-interest story.

It didn't mention her name anywhere, only calling her a 'dauntless newsie'. She was glad of that. It would have drawn much undue attention. Only Jack and Denton knew who it really was, even the rest of the newsies being in the dark.

With such a good headline, she was sold out by two and headed home. The rest of the day went equally well, the evening edition selling like mad for some reason, and by seven she was finished.

The only strange thing that day was a girl she saw on the street. She was obviously a middle-class girl, didn't work much, pretty well off. But for some reason, Red thought that the girl recognized her. And what was even stranger was that Red thought she looked like…well, it didn't matter.

She shrugged away her agitating thoughts and entered the lodging house, the warmth flooding over her like a welcome blanket. She looked around the room and smiled. The usual hubbub was present, but the chair was empty. She quickly occupied it just as Jack came into the room with a mug of coffee. He groaned.

"Red…"

She grinned unrepentantly at him and swung her legs over an arm. He just sighed again and settled down into the next round of poker with Race and Mush.

Tyke walked up to her.

"Liubhaìr, I got a question." Red smiled. Race had turned around so quickly the first time he heard that name that the wind snapped around him.

"_Liubhaìr? He calls you Liubhaìr?" he asked, breathless._

"_Yeah. What of it?"_

_He shrugged. "Didn't know both o' ya could speak Irish." His comment sparked a conversation in which Red learned Race was Irish, and that no one else in the house understood or spoke Gaelic. This called for many evenings of the three of them rapidly speaking their native tongue, laughing frequently, while everyone else around them wondered who and what they were speaking about._

She settled back into the chair, looking Tyke in the eyes as he kneeled by the foot. "Shoot, kiddo."

"Well, are màthair and athair in Heaven?"

She contemplated her next words. "Well, maybe. If they had accepted Jesus' gift on the cross." By now some of the room had quieted to listen to them. Red had predetermined to raise the child like she had been raised, no matter what the other newsies thought. She had told them, in no uncertain terms, that "I kick your butt if you mess wit me kid." Plus, Tyke usually had something interesting to say about any subject he brought up.

"Are dey angels? Wit wings an' nightgowns?"

She smiled at his imagination. "Maybe. I think so."

"When I die, will I be an angel?"

Red struck a thinking pose. "I hope so. I want to. I bet yer màthair and athair are enjoying it, if dere angels."

He grinned back and sat with his legs crossed, his back against the base of the chair by her head. "I hope dey're angels. Cuz den they could be dose angels in da sky like da Bible says. Then dey could come visit me!"

She outright laughed. "You mean angels in disguise?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Angels in da sky. Dey'd be watchin' ova me like dey promised."

"Maybe they are, Tyke." Red tousled his hair, a smile beaming a ray of hope from her face.

Red yawned. She was tired. It had been a big day, a front page story and all. She groaned as she hefted herself out of her chair, planning to say goodnight, but the action only got her pushed back into her seat. Kid Blink plopped himself down in front of her. She rolled her eyes and groaned again.

"So after I have as rough a day as you, all you can do is beg a backrub?" Blink tipped his head back, looking into her face upside down, grinning obstinately. She rolled her eyes again and began to rub. "You're pathetic. You all are!" She raised her voice to be heard over the hubbub in the room.

Jack looked up from the poker game, a grin lighting his face. "But that's why you love us. Right?" Red just rolled her eyes again, and continued working on Blink, who had enough knots to tie up the state penitentiary. Blink looked up at her again.

"Ya know, if ya keep rollin' yo' eyes like dat, they gonna fall right outta ya head."

Red smacked the side of his head, then sighed contentedly. Things were normal again.

At least for a while.

The End.

Maybe.

- - - - -

Thanks to all those who reviewed, this one had longer chappys, so its a bit shorter. To PeabodyMack, for me, being a Christian is obeying God with all my heart, all my soul, and all my mind. I would be excited to explain this to you. Hmm...I'll unlock my email address tomorrow for a few days, so if you go to my profile page and click on the little blue email words, you can contact me. NewsieGoil, Nick, madm, Garen, elle, SilverConlon, thanks for reading and keeping reviewing (that sounds weird!), and i sincerely appreciate the warm fuzzies. To all readers, thank you, and good night.


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